


Safeties

by WritingToKeepMySanity



Series: Punk (Newsies) Will Never Die [5]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: (not a lot just a little), Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Punk Race, Race and Al are idiots, Soft Gay Punks, Tattoos, are we actually surprised?, the origin of the princess nickname
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-18 20:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingToKeepMySanity/pseuds/WritingToKeepMySanity
Summary: He had eight of them.One for each of his safeties.





	Safeties

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Disney Learned _Way_ Too Much About Color Meanings For This Fic

He had a line of them along his ribs, one on his hip, added one every time he thought of a new one.

Safety pins.

Eight of them.

One for each of his safeties.

*

Red.

Red was for Jackie, who, as long as Race had known him, had been as quick to love as he was to fight.

He remembered when he first met Jack. Race had been walking between the little grocery store he worked at and wherever Spot had pitched his tent, smoking a cigarette, when two guys tried to jump him.

Race could hold his own in a fight, but these were big guys and they’d caught him off-guard. One had caught his arms and the other was pummeling Race’s stomach and he’d tried squirming free, when another member joined the fight, knocking the one hitting Race to the ground.

“Stay down, _DeLancey_ ,” he’d growled.

The one holding Race shoved him away. “Don’cha ever give up, Kelly?”

The new guy gave him a sharp grin. “Nah, s’one’a my faults.”

They’d lost.

Big time.

And as they sat in the kitchen of Jack’s foster mom’s house, nursing cuts, bruises, three broken fingers between them, and a pretty nasty burn—the cigarette stayed lit longer than it should’ve in a fight—Race found his first best friend outside of Spot.

*

Orange.

Orange was for Crutchie, the happiest, loyalest kid Race had ever saw.

He learned Charlie’s story almost the same day he met him. Crutchie never hid it, he was given up not long after he was born, his parents unable or unwillin’ to keep a kid whose foot was twisted up and probably would never walk, and he bounced around from foster home to foster home until he he met Jack and Miss Medda when he was fifteen.

Despite the shit the kid’s been through, Race rarely saw him without a smile, without a shoulder big enough for the world to lean on.

“Hey, Racer,” Crutchie’d said with a grin after Race had told him about why he lived on campus year-round, until he and Spot could get an apartment. “Ya know the Diet-Coke-Mentos trick, yeah?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna mess with Al’s Coke?”

So the kid was a little shit too. That was alright by Race.

*

Yellow.

Yellow was for Albert. Albert, who stuck by his side through the dumbest shit the two of them could come up with.

Dumb shit they—eventually—had the brains to back out of in the end.

The worst, by far, had to be when they got it through their heads that they could dive off the Brooklyn Bridge and survive.

They’d stood on the edge of the pedestrian walkway, looking down into the dark water. It was four-thirty in the morning, which meant a fair amount car traffic below, but not too many people out with them.

“Ya think Sniper really did this?” Al had asked nervously.

“Psh,” Race waved a hand. “Sniper’s full’a shit. _We’s_ gonna be the legends now… if we don’t die,” he added in a mutter.

“ _What_?”

Race shook his head. “Nah, we ain’t gonna die. It’s just… the East River in March, an’ a almost three hundred foot drop. S’nothin’!”

Albert didn’t look convinced. “Yeah… S… nothin’.”

Neither made a move to climb over the railing.

“Ya wanna… _not_ do this, an’ get coffee instead?”

“Thank _fuck_ , yes please.”

*

Green.

Green was for… his mom. His mother, who gave him his life, who, despite her distaste for how Race wanted to live his life, gave him the freedom to live it the way he wanted.

He’d fought with his parents for months leading up to him moving out. Race’d been working double shifts at the grocery store, worked at the studio when they needed him, busted his ass in school so he had top grades to get as many scholarships as he could, all so he would be able to afford tuition for summer sessions, so he could be with Spot.

His father had told him on no uncertain terms they would _not_ be helping him with any tuition, or any schooling, and if he wanted to “move out of his goddamn house” he’d better “find the goddamn money” himself.

His mother… had stayed quiet through the entire ordeal.

Which wasn’t unusual, or even unexpected, but it still hurt.

So he’d found the goddamn money to move out of his dad’s goddamn house and got ready to move.

“Antonio,” she’d said, standing at his bedroom door as he packed. “I-I know, I haven’t been the… the most supportive of you and how you’ve chosen to lead your life—”

Race had tried to hide a snort. _Not the most supportive_ was an understatement.

“—But it’s your life now.” His  mother’s words had shocked him. “And, though your father and I don’t understand, it’s time for you to lead that life.”

He’d turned to look at his mother, who lingered in his doorway a moment longer, fidgeting with and envelope, before setting it on his bed, then nodding and turning away.

The next day, he’d been gone before anyone else was up.

*

Blue.

Blue was for Davey. Davey, who Race was pretty sure only tagged along with Jack to make sure he didn’t get killed and then just kinda stuck around because he’d seen too much.

He wore the leather jacket they’d gotten him, with exactly one patch on it, right over his heart, a Star of David, but Davey Jacobs was definitely _not_ punk.

Davey was alright by Race though. He never made fun of Jack or Spot when they couldn’t read something simple, or Race when he couldn’t understand the professor’s lessons.

“S’useless,” Race said, dropping his head on the desk in front of him.

Davey sighed. They’d already been through this three times in the last hour. “Race, you can get this. Ya just need it long enough to pass the test.”

“All I _know_ ‘bout Biology is the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“ _Tony_ , it’s your last Biology test, let’s forget the memes and focus on this.”

“Wow, I just came out to have a good time and I’m honestly—”

“Finish that sentence and I _will_ shave your head while you sleep.”

*

Indigo.

Indigo was for JoJo. JoJo, who was… the least punk kid Race had ever met.

Honestly, Race wasn’t even sure _how_ JoJo found them, or became apart of their group, but he was glad. Because, though he didn’t truly fit in with them at first, he was exactly what they’d needed.

He was level-headed in a way that Davey wasn’t, unruffled, wasn’t prone to violence like Jack and Spot, wasn’t a shit like Crutchie and Al, he was just… JoJo.

“Just” JoJo, who happened to wear bright pastel colors under his big leather jacket and combat boots, who never dyed his hair, but allowed Crutchie to give him an undercut once.

Race’d asked him once, what that was about.

JoJo’d shrugged. “Took me a long, _long_ time ta accept who I was, an’ what I wanted. To me, growin’ up was when I realized I didn’t have ta be like everyone else f’r them to like me. Once I made peace with that, I could really be myself.”

No, on the surface, Josephino Joreglino didn’t belong in their group.

Which made him perfect.

*

Purple.

Purple was for Kathy. Katherine, who Race still couldn’t believe was there some days.

Princess Pulitzer, deigning to speak with the lower class? He’d thought it’d been a joke.

But Jackie’d started bringing her ‘round, more and more, and they’d started learning there was more to Kath than a last name and an inheritance.

She wasn’t interested in her father’s money, didn’t want to go into business like he wanted her to, never agreed with his cutting of arts funds. She never acted like the boys were beneath her in any way, ever.

Race’d let the nickname slip exactly once. “‘Scuse me, Your Highness, but’cha lowly peasant needs ta get by,” he’d joked, when she was standing in a doorway he’d needed to get through.

Instead of answering him, she’d sized him up, causing him to squirm, before she finally lifted her chin and said in a haughty voice, “The princess will allow it once, but never interrupt her again.”

Katherine hadn’t even been able to make it through the whole thing with a straight face, dissolving into giggles before scooting aside to let Race by, squeezing his arm with a wink.

After that, every time he called her “Princess”, it was purely intentional.

*

And then, on his right hip, much more faded than the other seven, was a black safety pin.

Spot had a matching one on his hip.

The first summer he lived with Spot was… rocky, to say the least, both of them trying to find their footing those first few weeks, after spending four years hiding their relationship to suddenly seeing so much of each other.

But they settled into the living-together part and, after about a month, Spot took Race to get his first tattoo.

Spot himself had a full sleeve on one arm—working towards sleeves on both—but they’d decided to get something just for them, not apart of his sleeve.

Race had suggested the safety pin. “Ya the only one holdin’ me together,” he’d said. “Ya… keep me from fallin’ apart. You’re m’safety, Sean.”

It was just him and Spot for so long, Race never thought to put his trust in anyone else. But then there’d been Jackie.

And Crutchie.

And Al.

And Davey.

And JoJo.

And Katherine.

And—despite her faults—his mother.

They had his trust, he had theirs. They were his safeties.

**Author's Note:**

> who knew Race Higgins was so deep?? XP
> 
> follow my tumblr for more Punk Newsies!! @wordshakerofgallifrey
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts!!


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